For those of you that have been read­ing Into the Cen­tre and brows­ing the web­site, you’ll not be sur­prised to see a series of arti­cles con­cern­ing the ‘emp­ty­ing’ of body, mind and spirit.

Cut­ting Your Soul Some Slack

Some­how I think I’ve used this story before, but it fits this sec­tion like a glove.

I once worked with a client who was upper mid­dle man­age­ment, and under stress. He worked ridicu­lous hours, was phys­i­cally ill, and deeply unhappy and unsat­is­fied. He had applied for another posi­tion, and was con­vinced chang­ing jobs and provinces was going to solve every­thing. He wanted some help in the mean time.

I sug­gested he head off to the Toronto Zen Cen­tre, and learn to meditate.

He said, “It’s going to be hard fit­ting in 15 min­utes of med­i­ta­tion a day. I guess it’s worth it, though.”

I said, “Hmm. I don’t remem­ber say­ing ‘add it in.’ I was won­der­ing what might change for you if your life became your med­i­ta­tion, and if every­thing you do was fil­tered through that.”

Voca­tion: Life as Meditation

In other arti­cles, I’ve talked about voca­tion. A voca­tion is a ‘being-choice.’ This is uncom­mon for most. In the west, we are con­di­tioned to find mean­ing in num­bers and accu­mu­la­tion. ‘Get­ting ahead’ is the goal—more money, pro­mo­tions, recog­ni­tion by the masses. Rela­tion­ships are judged by how they appear. Par­ent­ing is about cre­at­ing suc­cess­ful kids—I just saw an ad in the local paper for a P.H.D. pro­gram for pre-schoolers. Don’t ask.

At the core of each of us is a pull to find depth, mean­ing, and pur­pose. The prob­lem comes when we see this long­ing as some­thing to be added on.

Churches are famous for shov­el­ing this bilge—come to us, and we will save you. Give us an hour a week, and a tithe, and all will be well. And if you can give more, your crown will be even shinier.

We, on the other hand, pro­pose a rad­i­cal alter­na­tive. What if find­ing your depth was your only goal?

I know. You’re think­ing, “I can’t move into a Zen Monastery! I have a life!”

I won’t ask you how your so-called life is work­ing for you. I know. I hear it, day in and day out. I see it in the sad faces on the streets. My clients cry for just a lit­tle peace, just a moment of con­tent­ment. And in that, they are set­tling for way too little.

Here’s a Zen story for you:

A guy named Harry is on a quest for enlight­en­ment, or wak­ing up. He tries every­thing. He goes to school. Nada. He becomes a life coach. More nada. He wor­ships in the local shrine-of-choice. Mucho nada.
Finally, he decides to climb a moun­tain in Nepal, to visit His Holi­ness, Rama Dama Ding Dong.
It was an ardu­ous trip. (Aren’t they always?) Finally, near death, he col­lapses on the ground near a steep path. He looks up, and an old man is walk­ing down the path with a big bun­dle of fire­wood tied to his back. Harry says, “I’m look­ing for Rama.”
“I am he,” replies the guru.
“Oh, thank god!” Harry says. “I’ve been search­ing for so long. Please, tell me, what is wak­ing up?“
The guru takes off the bun­dle of wood, sighs deeply, and smiles.
In that instant, Harry woke up. Then Harry’s mind got involved. He asked, “Please, par­don another ques­tion, but what hap­pens after wak­ing up?“
Rama picks up the bun­dle, places it on his back, and con­tin­ues down the hill.

This is an impor­tant story, and it cap­tures what I’m try­ing to do with this series of arti­cles. There are sev­eral aspects to the story, but the impor­tant part is this:
There is walk­ing with the bur­den. There is enlight­en­ment (wak­ing up.)That is fol­lowed by walk­ing with the burden.

The bur­den of liv­ing stays the same.
What changes is the approach.
The goal, then, is to shoul­der your bur­den with pres­ence, deter­mi­na­tion,
and a sense of humour.
All the time.

It seems to me that life in the 21^st cen­tury has been dumbed down and cheap­ened. Per­haps more so than ever before, peo­ple are fix­ated on buy­ing hap­pi­ness at any cost, and then depress­ing them­selves when what they bought doesn’t have any last­ing effect.

Sim­ple Pres­ence as a Spir­i­tual Discipline

In other arti­cles in this series, I’ve talked about the process of com­ing into sim­ple pres­ence. The idea is dis­arm­ingly sim­ple: I pay atten­tion to what I am doing. As I noted in the arti­cle, the atten­tion is sim­ple. I wish only to notice, fully, the expe­ri­ence I am having.

Most of what passes for life these days is emphat­i­cally a men­tal walk in the past or the future. Mostly, peo­ple are wait­ing. Wait­ing for the next pro­mo­tion, the next stock tip, the next man or woman to come along and sweep them off their feet. Of course, stuff shows up, and then peo­ple seem to for­get. The per­son, place, or thing does noth­ing to fill the void the per­son feels, and they for­get that it never does.

So, they go after more of what never worked in the first place.
This is the clas­sic def­i­n­i­tion of d..u..m..b

Spir­i­tu­al­ity: an Over­ar­ch­ing Principle

The spir­i­tu­al­ity side of this equa­tion is def­i­nitely a shift in per­spec­tive. First of all, it’s not about ‘find­ing reli­gion,’ leav­ing it all to Jesus or Moham­mad or the Bud­dha, or adopt­ing another tech­nique, prayer, or mantra. In a sense, the spir­i­tu­al­ity I’d like to sug­gest is much more bare-bones-Zen. Sit. Stand. Walk. Act. Be present.

I can’t sug­gest what your spir­i­tual focus ‘should’ be. I have enough trou­ble unpack­ing mine. Nonethe­less, here are some hints.

I have a bad habit of anger­ing myself as I observe other dri­vers. In the past, I’ve yelled, shot the bird, and oth­er­wise acted like a 6-year-old. In the last 2 weeks, I’ve been think­ing about this behav­iour. I’ve let go of excus­ing it as harm­less and a way to get some anger out. Instead, I’m ask­ing “Is this action get­ting me closer to or far­ther from my purpose?”

Of course, the answer is ‘no,’ so, I’m breath­ing and let­ting the anger go. Oddly, this works, each and every time (he says with a rue­ful grin.) Of course, I have the right to get all indig­nant. But when all is said and done, all I end up is angry, and the world goes on.

Act­ing like a spoiled brat does not get me to the depth I seek. So, I let it go.

This is what self-mastery looks like, and every exam­ple of self-mastery is equally small. We are talk­ing about moment-to-moment liv­ing, after all.

More next issue!